


Love, Benji

by conormonaghan



Category: Love Simon (2018), Love Victor (TV 2020)
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Breeding, Cheating, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Infidelity, Kissing, Large Cock, M/M, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Seduction, Size Kink, Small Penis, Threesome - M/M/M, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conormonaghan/pseuds/conormonaghan
Summary: After Victor and Benji fall in love and then fall apart, Benji reaches out to Simon Spier.
Relationships: Simon Spier/Bram Greenfeld, Victor Salazar/Andrew, Victor Salazar/Benji Campbell, Victor Salazar/Bram Greenfeld, Victor Salazar/Felix, Victor Salazar/Simon Spier, Victor Salazar/Simon Spier/Bram Greenfeld
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	Love, Benji

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I encourage and really appreciate comments! They help me write future stories!
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing within another fictional universe!

I never imagined that things would turn out this way, and truthfully, I never wanted them to.

I remember the first time that we kissed, or more accurately, the first time that Victor kissed me. It was shocking—not because the thought had never crossed my mind that Victor might be gay, as it had, both due to his mannerisms and the awkwardness which seemed to accompany each of our early interactions—but because I didn’t expect Victor to be attracted to me, much less act on those emotions. In that moment when our lips first touched, I felt sick to my stomach, and that sickness extended into the days that followed. I convinced myself at first that the panic was born out of concern that I had jeopardized my relationship with Derek, the one honest, romantic human connection that I had ever managed to develop with someone, but as the days passed, I began to realize that my relationship with Derek wasn’t honest, or even romantic, anymore—that it had simply become comfortable, despite how uncomfortable he often made me feel for being myself—and that my relationship had in fact become a source of denial—denial that I was consumed with sadness and denial that I was falling for Victor and had been since I first saw him smile.

The first time that we kissed for real was on the night of the Spring Fling, and it was electric. If we had been in a movie instead of real life and if we had been standing instead of sitting on a bench, my heel might have popped in the air like the girls on those classic chick flicks, but instead I felt fireworks explode deep within my bowels and goosebumps erupt across the surface of my skin. Victor’s lips were so soft, and his hands were so warm on the back of my neck, and it felt so perfect. The fallout from that moment would spill over into the weeks that followed—Victor coming out to his parents, Victor’s sister Pilar learning about him cheating on Mia, and of course Mia herself finding out that Victor had cheated on her with a boy—but for me personally it was worth every challenge because I spent nearly every day for the next three months with Victor, drowning in his bright smile and his warm touch and the intoxicating taste of his soft lips, among other body parts.

We had sex four days after that first—real—kiss. I didn’t anticipate that it would happen so quickly, because although I had had sex with both girls and boys, Victor was a virgin and had shared with me on multiple occasions what basically amounted to an unreadiness to have sex. Turns out it was probably just an unreadiness to have sex with a girl, because it all happened so quickly and so naturally. Victor’s parents were out for the night, and Pilar was, well, I don’t actually know where she was, but she wasn’t at home. We spent hours locked in Victor’s room kissing. It started as a light dance between our lips, but evolved into passionate, heated tonguing, and our clothes just gradually seemed to melt away. I was extremely careful to avoid initiating anything, because I didn’t want to pressure Victor into doing anything that he wasn’t ready to do, but he was ready. 

There are so many raw, beautiful moments from that first night now etched permanently in my memory, each a reminder of just how innocent Victor was then, how foreign all of this was to him at the time. I remember the way he slowly, but determinedly stripped me of each and every article of my clothing—delaying almost fifteen minutes with passionate kissing before finally removing my underwear—before ever removing even a single piece of his own clothing, adorably timid about revealing his own body. I remember the comically hesitant way he eased down my black Calvin Klein briefs, revealing my trimmed bush hair by hair, and the utterly stunned look on his face when he set eyes on my penis for the first time. Admittedly, I have a very large penis, almost nine inches and thick, and knowing that it was the first penis other than his own that he had ever seen hard made it understandably surprising to see. I remember watching his body shake with trepidation as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his generic black Hanes boxer briefs and the blush on his face as he fearfully pushed them down and off his legs. I remember the way his hands immediately rushed to cover his now exposed penis and the blush of embarrassment that was painted across his face.

Even though it had only been a few days since we started dating, since our first real kiss, we had already had discussions about gay sex. Victor had a seemingly endless (and adorable) array of questions which he was simultaneously dying to ask and too timid to ask. Perhaps the most obvious was about the role of the top and the bottom in gay sex and how it was decided. I laughed and to his great dismay refused to provide him a definitive answer. I told him there was no answer and not to worry about it, that those things just had a way of figuring themselves out when the right moment came. When that moment did come on that night—after he had finally removed his underwear and after I had kissed him softly until he gathered the courage to remove his hands and expose his penis to me for the first time—it worked itself out in an instant and without doubt: Victor was the bottom.

I’m not one of those guys who subscribers to the penis size power dynamic—I’m versatile and even though I am several inches larger than my last boyfriend Derek, I spent the majority of our relationship bottoming and enjoyed it, even though it was largely because my penis was so large that it wasn’t enjoyable for Derek to bottom. But in the case of Victor, it was undeniable. His penis is just over three inches hard, and the contrast between us in that moment—his slender, three inch penis and freshly shaven pubic area juxtaposed with my nine inch penis and thoroughly manicured but still hairy body—drove Victor absolutely insane with lust. His inhibitions dissolved instantly and suddenly his penis was so excited that it began leaking semen, and before I knew it my beautiful boyfriend, who just moments before had been struggling to even remove his clothes in front of me, was lifting his legs up and exposing his beautiful hole, his most private, untouched area, to me for the first time.

I found it adorable (and insanely sexy) that even though he had shaven his pubic area in anticipation of that moment, the hair between his ass was untouched (though naturally very sparse and trim), that even though he had asked me so many questions, he had never stopped to consider the natural biological realities of gay sex—which I know are no surprise to you, that an ass is still an ass and there are just natural things to consider when preparing for anal sex. But it didn’t matter in that moment, because Victor was ready and so was I.

The sound he made when I penetrated him for the first time was so guttural and raw and unexpectedly feminine that it took me by surprise, but it also drove me mad with passion. It took all of my willpower to show patience and let my penis sink into him slowly, to give him time to adjust, and I was surprised yet again when, once my dick was about halfway in, he whispered in my ear: Fill me up. His eyes literally rolled into the back of his head with pleasure and he melted beneath me when I pushed the rest in. I started kissing him tenderly, pushing in and out, pushing deeper into Victor than I ever had with another person, and though I was fearful that it was too much for him, every time I pushed deeper and stretched him open more, he seemed to respond with even more sounds of ecstasy, dragging his fingers down my back. It took me several minutes to realize that he had ejaculated instantly the moment my dick bottomed out deep in his hole, and when I did realize it, I felt so guilty, but he didn’t care, wasn’t even thinking about it, all he wanted was for me to keep fucking him, even deeper, as deep as I possibly could.

We must have had sex five or six times that night. In the weeks that months that followed, we had sex incessantly, Victor taking inside him at every opportunity, often multiple times per day, at his house, at my house, in the car, at the bathroom in the mall, even once behind the bushes at the park at night, and every time it was just as passionate as that first night, filled with passionate kissing and sweaty bodies grinding against each other. It was beyond anything I had experienced before. It just felt right.

I only found out later that it wasn’t enough for Victor.

Victor fucked his best Felix about three weeks into our relationship. I don’t mean to imply that Victor was the top, but I do want to convey that I know Victor was the one who initiated the affair, because Felix is still, to the best of my knowledge, a straight male. I wish I could tell you that it was a one time affair, that it only happened because they were both drunk—they were—but the reality is that it didn’t just happen once. It happened at least a dozen times.

It wasn’t just Felix. Victor managed to fuck Andrew as well, who might have for all other intents and purposes been considered his personal arch nemesis. How he had managed to seduce a drunken, straight Andrew into allowing Victor to give him head and ride his big dick, I don’t know, but he did it while he was dating Mia, yet another betrayal. She never found out, and I won’t pretend to know much about how these two affairs played out, but the fact that I did and the fact I found out about them only months after the fact makes me feel as if there must have been others of which I am still unaware.

Victor and I broke up three months and six days after we started dating. That was when I found out about—well, everything. For those three months, I thought I had finally found what I had been searching for, what girls and alcohol and even my previous boyfriends couldn’t give me, the opportunity to just be myself and be loved by someone precisely for being myself. My relationship with Victor felt intimate and special in a way that I’m not sure I’ll experience again, so it was all the more devastating when I realized it was all—well, a lie.

Simon—

I’m trying to put this all into words as I’m fucking Victor. Yes, I am fucking him right now. We’re not dating, we haven’t been dating for months, and we never will again, because I don’t think I can handle my emotions, but we still fuck, because Victor wants it, because he’s desperate for it, all the time, and because I have no one and nothing else right now. 

Don’t get me wrong, the sex is still incredible, but it’s fucking and not making love. Right now, Victor is on his hands and knees on the bed, doggystyle, no longer the tender, timid boy whose virginity I tenderly took in a storm of sudden passion, but now an experienced gay bottom, bent over, back arched, cheeks spread, taking dick up his ass like a pornstar. A pair of his discarded 2xist briefs lies in the corner, the days of his plain Hanes underwear in his past. He’s moaning and his gorgeous little dick is rock hard and leaking semen between his legs, and in a purely primal way, I’m addicted to the way my big dick looks moving in and out of his obscenely stretched hole. Every once in a while, I pull my dick out of his ass entirely. In most ways, the intimacy between us has dissolved, but occasionally it resurfaces in new, impersonal, and lewd ways. Like in this moment, as I watch his hole gape before slowly closing back up, a sick and beautiful sight that I never once enjoyed while we were dating, because my lips were always locked with his. At Victor’s request, I also stopped using condoms. Victor insists that there is no need, that I’m his only partner, even though we no longer even pretend to be in a relationship, much less exclusive. It’s a lie, and I know that the reason he doesn’t want me to wear condoms is because he finds the act of being filled with dick and semen deeply taboo and erotic, and I fuck him bareback even though I know he’s fucking other guys because—I am embarrassed to admit it—I find it deeply erotic too.

Simon, I know you don’t care to hear these details, but I’m saying all of these things to you anyway, because I know that you will never hear them. I know that, because despite how badly I want to tell you all of these things, despite how desperately I wish I had someone like you to talk to right now, and every night for the past several months, someone to help me navigate these waters of life, just as you had Bram and just as Victor had you, I know that I am too afraid to actually reach out to you. I’m too afraid to reach out to you, because I know.

I know in vivid and unforgiving detail what happened between you and Victor. I know that you and Bram had sex with him. Of his many infidelities, the time Victor spent with you and Bram is what intrigued me the most, what I still can’t seem to erase from my mind. I reluctantly pried detail after detail from Victor over the course of several months, and I pieced each and every detail together into what basically amounts to pornography. I know that you and Bram both wear Calvin Klein underwear. On that particular night, they were black. I know that you and Bram are both hung, about nine inches each, cut. I know that Bram shaves his pubic hair and you let yours grow relatively freely. I know that you two are ordinarily versatile, though on that night Victor was of course the bottom. I know that you and Bram took him from both ends in every position imaginable, doggystyle, missionary, reverse cowboy. I know that he absolutely loved every second of it, being filled by big nine inch dicks on both ends, something I could never give him by myself. I know that he did things with the two of you that he has never, even to this day, done with me. I know that he ate both of your asses while you and Bram made out. I know that neither of you shave down there, and that Bram has short, sparse black hairs around his rim and that yours, Simon, are slightly longer and and curl ever so slightly into concentric clumps around your pink hole when they’re drenched in spit. I know that Victor lied to me about you two wearing condoms, and that you both gave it to him bareback at his request, despite your better judgment, and that he savored every drop of cum that you emptied inside of him. I know that though he kissed and rode you both, that throughout it you and Bram were probably more enamored with each other than Victor, that if anything you were sharing in the thrill of something taboo, a threesome with someone else, someone faceless, and that you had every opportunity to enjoy—as a couple—the coarse vulgarities of that, the experience of opening up Victor’s ass, staring at his gaping hole and his tiny penis like I am now, in an impersonal but erotic way, but unlike me in this moment, you got to enjoy it with someone that you truly love and who loves you back. 

I hope you did enjoy it, because I know Victor did.

I don’t say that out of malice. I do honestly hope that you and Bram enjoyed that night with Victor. I hope that maybe you even caught a glimpse of the boy that I thought I fell in love with, and that it reminded you and Bram of the love you have for each other.

I want you to know that I don’t blame you. Not because I think you would care if I did blame you, but because it makes me feel better knowing that I don’t feel any anger towards you. Because I know that Victor lied to you and told you and Bram that we had broken up, that he was single and that he was heartbroken. I know that he seduced you, just like he seduced me. I’m glad that you have Bram, and that for you the seduction was probably irrelevant, because at the end of the night you got to sink into the warm bed that you shared with Bram, that night and every night. I mean it when I say I am so happy for you and Bram, because even though we have never met or spoken, I know deep down that you are a kind and genuine person, Simon Spier, and that even though I’m still here in this bedroom fucking Victor into the mattress, lonely and filled with a deep sorrow, I long for the embrace of someone like you, Simon, and if I’m not allowed that, maybe at least someday I will have the courage to reach out and talk to you, and if I fail at even that, then at least I know that there are boys out there like you and Bram.

And that is enough.

Love,  
Benji


End file.
